An Insignificant Day
by marin karin
Summary: When America was younger, he said something to England that would confuse him. Years later, while England ponders what July 4th means to him, those words suddenly come back. Fluff. A belated birthday gift for America and my friend.


America, 17th Century

The seagulls cried above his head as England stepped off his ship on to the dock. He looked up at the bright cloudless sky, a small corner of his lips curled up. His mind wandered off - not for the first time today - to the little boy he had missed for so long, and wondered how he was doing. Had he grown taller? Is he less scared of the dark now and would let England leave when the bedtime story is finished? Will his bountiful blond hair be covered in mud, and England would have to spend the evening untangling it while chiding the young boy? England let out a wistful sigh. Will the boy still missed him?

The sound of hurried footsteps bouncing off the wooden platform, running towards his direction, suddenly woke England up from his wandering daydream. He looked up and smiled at the onrushing figure. With as much energy as an excited foal, the young boy made a beeline towards England. And though England had spread his arms out to welcome him, nothing could prepare England for the full force of America crashing into his chest with an excited embrace. The two fell over on to the ground.

"England! You're back! You're back you're back you're back...!" America cried out, his blue eyes shimmering. The older nation chuckled as he pushed himself up. He clutched at his pained side with one hand and patted America's head with the other. Ah, how he missed the feel of these messy blond hair.

"Have you been a good boy?" he asked. The little nation nodded. He pulled England up on to his feet, and the two quickly walked away, partly to get out of the way of the workers who were unloading cargo from the ship, partly because they needed to get to a place where they could catch up on the years that they have been missing each other.

The further they walked, the more England noticed that there was something unusual about the boy today. Normally during the walk, this ball of boundless energy would tell him all about what happened during the last few months. The animals he saw. The friends he made. New things the colonists taught him. All in one breathe. Today, he walked quietly by England's side, while occasionally glancing upwards with a curious look in his eyes, then abruptly looking away before England could say anything.

Finally, unable to hold back his confusion anymore, England asked, "Is something the matter with you today? You seem awfully shy."

America shook his head and stared at the ground. Then, a moment passed, and he slowly pulled something out of his pocket. It was a small wooden sculpture, carved in the shape of a buffalo. It was uneven and not very detailed, and the scratch marks betrayed the crafter's inexperience, but England fought hard to suppress his glee when America pressed the object in his hand. "F-For me? Thank you." He smiled. "Hmm? So what's the occasion?"

The boy stuttered out the words. "Happy Birthday, England."

The smile remained frozen on England's face. Well, he was certainly still happy, that's for sure. But...

_Huh?_

England, 21st Century

"Is this all you need help with today?"

In England's office, Seychelles sat in a chair beside his desk. As she asked him the question, she placed the stack of files that she had been working on to an empty spot in the corner. England nodded without looking up from the document he was busy inspecting. "Yeah, thanks, you've been a great help. You can go home early if you want."

Seychelles stood up and stretched, letting out an unrestrained cheer. "Yes! One week vacation here I come!"

"Pipe down, will you?" England grimaced. Could she not see the pile of work he still needed to work on and not at least be a little sympathetic? At any rate, she certainly did not look back as she skipped towards the door.

"Hmm, I guess I should at least check to see if there's anything else for you today," she suddenly said, and reached for the calendar. It took a second for England to remember the date, and it was already a second too late to react.

He stood up. "Wait, you don't have to..." There was nothing he could do; she had already flipped the calendar opened. A confused expression formed on her face.

"Why... is today blacked out? There really is something that you overlooked, isn't there?"

England laughed nervously as he walked towards her and snatched the accursed calendar from her hands. "There's nothing. The publishing company probably misprinted it."

"With permanent marker?"

"Why the bloody hell does it matter what they used?"

The heat was rising in his cheeks. He grumbled as he made his way back to his desk. Why won't the stupid girl leave already? To his dismay, when he sat back down in his chair and looked up, she was still in the same place, but with an expression on her face that suggested the light bulb had turn on.

"I just remember. Today is that guy's-"

"Don't say it! Th-there's really no meaning to it!"

"Oh..." she said, dragging her voice in a way that bothered England.

"I'm telling you!"

"Well, fine, whatever," Seychelles shrugged.

"Thank you. In that case, you may leave now."

"But I've been wondering about this. You know, despite the fact that you act like you hate him, you seem to always give him all these special treatments, like you think way more about him than everyone el-" Her sentence was cut short when the calendar in England's hand flew passed her face and hit the wall with a loud thud. She let out a yelp.

His face red as a beet, he cried, "You take that back now!"

"I-I just can't help wondering, that's all," Seychelles replied. "What exactly is you two's relationship?"

"Do you expect me to answer such a ridiculous question!"

Certain that he could not be reasoned with now, Seychelles lifted her hands to shield her face from the possible onslaught of missiles. To her surprise, nothing ever came. And when she lowered her hands, all she could see was a subdued England with his head quietly lowered, staring blankly at the desk.

"...How on earth could I answer such a question anyways?"

"England...?" She asked. Seeing no response from him, she lowered her own head. "Um, excuse me. I guess I should be heading out now."

After the door closed noiselessly behind her, England sank into his armchair. He leaned back, propping up his head with his hand, and let out a long sigh.

America, 17th century

The next few weeks passed in the blink of an eye as England busied himself with work in the colonies. There were meetings to attend, trades to make, and taxes to collect. In between those busy times, he tried to be with America as much as he could. They played games, told stories, hunted, and enjoyed home-cooked dinners together. To his dismay, no matter how England tried to teach him, America never seemed to understand the importance of finishing all the food on his plate. Oh well. He was still growing up slowly, and there would be plenty of time.

On one such activity filled day, England carried a tired America to his bed. The boy protested through his yawns that he was up for another game, but England refused, laughing, as he tucked him in bed. When England turned to leave the room, America suddenly spoke, "Are you going to leave again so soon? You've been playing with me so much lately. That means you're almost done with work, right?"

England scratched his head and turned around. "You're really getting smarter. I supposed, yes, in a few more days, I will be heading back."

"But... Why can't you stay longer?"

"I'm sorry," England said. He sat down and looked straight at America, who fought to keep his eyes opened valiantly, despite how tired he must have been getting. "But I have a lot of things going on back home. And other places. I know, I know... I just got here and I have to leave, but..." He scratched his head, suddenly recalling something. He had meant to ask America a question but he had been so busy he forgot. "Oh, this is kind of off-topic, but, um, remember on the day I got here, when you gave me a present?"

"Mm-hm," America nodded.

"...You knew it wasn't really my birthday, right?"

"But it could be. You never told me when your birthday was."

England chuckled nervously. "Yeah, that's kind of hard for me. It's been so long, so..."

"England, why don't you and I have birthdays like everyone else?"

Guh. England choked. Well, he knew one day America was going to ask him a question like this. He just wasn't quite prepared with a good answer yet. "Well, you and I are different from normal humans. Humans' birthdays are on the day they're born. We're... a bit more complicated."

"So how are humans born?"

"I'm definitely _not_ answering that one today."

Silence. America turned away to fix his eyes on the ceiling, his brows furrowed. _He's going to want an answer no matter what, huh._ England sighed in resignation. "I supposed for us nations, our birthdays are on the day that we become our own nation. It's hard to explain. I guess the meaning's different for everyone."

America looked back at him quizzically. "So why don't you know your own birthday."

"Hahaha. Well. I'm an old man. I can't remember that far back." Damn. He hated that feeling of self-pity that was quickly growing.

And then, there was no way England could be prepared for the next question that America shot towards him like a cannonball. "What about me? When will I have my own birthday?"

His face became ashen, his shoulders dropped, his mouths flapped wordless sounds. England felt his heart shattering into pieces as he stuttered the question, "You... You want to be independent already?" _You can't stand being with me any more? Why? WHY?_

Innocently, America shrugged. "Not sure what that means. But having a birthday seems nice, so..."

"Y-You definitely don't need a thing like that yet. You're still too young! Umm... If it's because of the presents, I'll bring you as many as you want, okay? If you want a party, we can party anytime! We can party now if you want, ha... haha..."

The longer England's mindless stammers continued, the more America looked confused. Finally, when the older man's awkward laughter trailed off into a pathetic wheeze, America said, "Actually, right now, I just want a bedtime story."

England perked up at the request. "Oh, if that's what you want, no problem!" He then told the young boy his favorite story about the giants of Scotland.

He smiled to himself as America drifted off to sleep. Ah, he's just a curious kid. He really was worrying too much.

England, 21st Century

_What is my relationship with him? How do I even begin?_

Since Seychelles left, the papers and pen on England's desk had been left untouched. The question having occupied his mind, he was incapable of focusing on anything else.

It really wasn't a question with a simple answer. Thinking back to all the times they have spent together, America really had been... so many things to him.

When England first saw him, he was a little infant. Holding him in his arms, England felt like a father, protective over his son.

Then America began to grow up. He would follow England around cheerfully and explored everywhere with him. He was always filled with excitement and curiosity. England always cherished those memories, when America was his beloved younger brother.

Somewhere along the line, the joy at the young boy's growth turned into England's despair.

_"I'm no longer your child or your baby brother. From now on, I'm independent."_

England closed his eyes.

He really was a nuisance who grew up too damn fast.

Since then, they have been many more things to each other. America was a friend. Someone he had spent good times and bad times with. They taught many things to each other, taking turns being teachers and students. When danger would arrive at either's doorsteps, they could be sure to count on each other for help to get through any adversity.

And there were times, times that others knew little about, where they were much closer than that...

England's face became as hot as the tea in his cup. He thrashed around, tossing the papers on his desk everywhere. That stupid girl, making him think about all this crap! Finally, when calm returned to the office, it looked as though a tornado had just passed through. He sat back down.

And this. This was exactly why he hated today. It was a day that made him remember all sorts of bad memories. It was a day that would make him confused about his feelings. A day that would make him confused about _that jerk_.

Because, after all, the day reminded England of the moment when America no longer wanted to be by his side.

So what should he feel today? Sad? Angry? ...Happy?

"God damn it!" he yelled out, banging his fists on the table. "Why the hell do I let him take up so much of my thoughts? Argh! This won't do! This won't do at all!" He stood up, laughing maniacally. "Today is just an ordinary day. That's right, it's an ordinary beautiful Sunday. I'm just gonna go out and have-"

At that moment, the door slammed opened. England wasn't quite prepared for another tornado to hit his office. A tornado that was, in fact, accented by confetti of red, white, and blue. And in the middle of it was America, dressed like Uncle Sam if he were at a parade, waving tiny stars and stripes flags. England could swear he saw mini fireworks going off behind him.

"Yo, England!" said America.

"Who the hell let you in?"

America pulled down his inflated plastic top hat, puffing his cheeks. "Ya know, this wasn't the welcome I was expecting."

"And what on earth are you doing in that ridiculous getup? I swear it gets dumber every year."

"Aww, come on, it's perfect for the occasion. And by the way..." A grin spread across America's face. England gulped and turned his face away. "No use looking away. I know you know exactly what day it is."

Without looking back, England replied, "Pft, Sunday. Yeah, so?"

"...Are we really going to have to do this every year?" When America saw no answer from England, he shrugged. "...Fine, I'll just go have a beer with Denmark or something."

America turned around. He tossed his flags nonchalantly behind him and started walking away.

"Wait!"

America, 17th century

England stood by the ship. Any time now, he would have to board. But with America standing in front of him, sniffling, he had no choice but to try to calm the boy down.

"Listen, I'll be back again, alright?"

"But when? You're always gone for a long time! Is it going to take months? Years?"

Shaking his head, England said, "I'm sorry. I wish I could give you an answer. But I will miss you too, so I'll absolutely-"

Suddenly, America blurted out. "That day I gave you the present is your birthday."

"Huh?" That came out of nowhere. England scratched his head, trying to understand what America was getting at. "But I already told you it isn't..."

"But I say that it is!" America said, quite adamantly. "And so... you will come see me on your birthday for sure, right?"

England was stunned.

"Because that's what people do isn't it? People spend their birthdays with the people they love."

"America... Is this what you're trying to..." Tears welling in his eyes with joy, England embraced America. Ah, why must he be so damn adorable? "I'll be back, I promise!"

America held him back tightly.

England, 21st century

What an idiot.

It just all dawned on England. He let out a chuckle that soon became a full blown laugh.

America's a grown man now but he never really changed, did he? He was just like back then.

The bespectacled man narrowed his eyes and shot an annoyed glance at England. "Are you laughing at me?"

"That's not it," England answered. He wiped the tears in the corner of his eyes that formed from laughing so hard.

"Hmph. Well keep laughing all you want. I'm gonna go have fun without you."

"Ah, geez, I said wait." England pulled at the corner of America's jacket, his cheeks bright red and his eyes fixed on the floor.

England could not deny that the day was a difficult one for him. It never failed to bring mixed emotions and confusion.

But, he only knew one thing for sure.

That this year, next year, and all the years after, for as long as his existence continues... He wanted America to be by his side, so that he could continue to say these words to him.

"Happy birthday, moron."


End file.
